There is something about Dickens that leaves me spellbound.
There is something about Austen that frames my thoughts.
There is something about Lewis Carroll that makes me wonder, what would I have done with my life if I didn't grow up with Alice inside me? If I didn't know how to believe at least six impossible things before breakfast?
There is something about Hardy. Bernard Shaw. Lawrence. Oscar Wilde. Bronte sisters. Maugham.
There is something about growing up with all of them, just as much as growing up with your family.
There is something about classics which steal your dreams. And create your own version of reality.